


The Virtues of Sin

by MimiWritesHerFandoms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:51:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MimiWritesHerFandoms/pseuds/MimiWritesHerFandoms
Summary: Your parish gets a new priest.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains a Catholic priest breaking his vows. If this idea offends you - DO NOT READ THIS!

_I'm a rolling thunder, a pouring rain_  
_I'm comin' on like a hurricane_  
_My lightning's flashing across the sky  
You're only young but you're gonna die_

  
It was wrong. You knew it was wrong. You’d known it was wrong since the beginning.  But you couldn’t stop, the urge too strong to overcome. Because it was wrong, but Jesus Christ it was good.

You’d walked through the huge double doors an hour ago and sat in the third pew back, close, but not too close. You ducked your head, praying for forgiveness for the thoughts racing through your head, thoughts about the parish’s new priest, Father Dean Winchester. Thoughts that _no one_ should ever have about a priest.

You couldn’t help but stare at him as he gave his sermon, stare at his unnaturally beautiful face, the freckles dusting his cheeks, his sinfully full lips, those green eyes that pierced deep into your soul, his muscled back that strained the fabric of his black shirt, and the black pants that hugged the curves of his ass.

You shuddered as images of him pounding into you, your hands tight on his ass, nails digging into the flesh, his lips pressed against your ear, moaning your name, filled your head, heat rushing through you. You pressed your thighs together, trying to ease the ache between your legs.

You glanced at your watch. Not much longer now.

You were going to Hell.

* * *

 _I won’t take no prisoners, won’t spare no lives_  
_Nobody’s putting up a fight_  
_I got my bell, I’m gonna take you to Hell,  
I’m gonna get you, Satan get you_

You stayed in your seat until the church was nearly empty, until only two or three parishioners were left waiting to give their last minute confession. The night janitor had started cleaning before you crossed the cavernous space to wait outside the confessional doors. When the last person stepped out and hurried away, eyes downcast, you opened the door and slipped inside.

Piercing green eyes stared into yours as Father Dean - Dean, he’d told you to call him Dean, though you’d yet to do it - pushed himself to his feet, the heat from his body pressing into you in the small, enclosed space.

“Y/N,” he whispered, confusion flickering across his face.

You grabbed the lapels of his black suit jacket, yanking him to you, your lips crashing into his, tongue shoving into his mouth.

He groaned, his strong hands landing on your waist as he pushed you backward, holding you against the door you’d just come through. He kissed you, hungry for the taste and feel of you, his hands brutally tight on your waist, his fingers digging into your sides, his hard length pressed against your hip.

You fumbled with the button of the ass hugging black pants, your hand slipping past the waistband, taking his cock and stroking it roughly. When you dropped to your knees, pushing him back a couple of steps, he moaned again, the sound filthy in the small space. You yanked his black pants down just enough that you could take him in your mouth, your thumb and forefinger wrapped around the base of his cock, your tongue swirling around the tip.

Father Dean’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, his cock sliding deep into your mouth, bumping the back of your throat. He rocked back and forth, grunting quietly as he fucked your mouth, one hand on the wall, bracing himself.

You glanced up at him, his head thrown back, eyes squeezed closed, his chest heaving as he sucked in deep breath after deep breath, the white collar tight around his throat. Christ, he was fucking perfect. And it was you, and only you, that was bringing those sounds out of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of the door on the confessional beside this one opening and closing, his fingers tightening in your hair as he reluctantly tried to pull you away. You shook your head, shoving him back another step until his cock slipped from your mouth and he was dropping onto the small wooden bench behind him. You crawled closer, staring up at him, tipping your head towards the small, screened, confessional window as you rose up on your knees and leaned over Father Dean, taking his cock in your mouth once again.

He reached over and pulled open the small door, the sound of it covering the moan that fell from his lips as you gently dragged your teeth along his length. You wrapped your arms around him, your face buried in his lap, the considerable length of his cock down your throat, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes, the short gingers hairs between his legs tickling your nose as you sucked him down.

 _Hell’s bells_  
_Yeah, Hell’s bells_  
_You got me ringing Hell’s bells_ _  
My temperature’s high, Hell’s bells_

You had no idea how he got through the parishioners confession, or if he even managed to, you were so consumed with what you were doing to him, with making him feel everything he’d never felt before. It wasn’t until he dropped his small Bible to the floor, the book hitting the hardwood with a thump, that you realized you were alone again. His hands were back in your hair, his hips coming up off of the bench, his cock jumping and pulsing in your mouth as you worked him over, pushing him closer and closer to his climax.

Father Dean let go with a low growl, thick, hot come spilling from him, coating your throat. You moaned, swallowing him down, his release exciting you in a way you hadn’t known was possible.

Once it was over, the priest completely spent, you released him, pressing wet kisses to his lower stomach before pushing yourself to your feet. You hiked up your skirt and straddled him, pulling his hand between your legs. You leaned over, your mouth against his ear.

“Do you feel that, Father?” you murmured. “Do you feel how wet you make me? How much I want you? That’s you, all you.”

He pulled aside the edge of your panties and dragged his fingers through the lips of your pussy, his middle finger easing into you up to the second knuckle, his cock jumping with interest between your bodies. He didn’t speak, but his breathing sped up and his body tensed noticeably.

You took his head in your hands, tipping it back so you could kiss him, moaning as he slipped a second finger inside you. You pressed a hand against the collar around his neck and rocked forward, fucking yourself on his fingers, the unbelievable wrongness of what you were doing making it feel that much better.

“I need you to fuck me,” you begged. “Please.”

 _I'll give you black sensations up and down your spine_  
_If you're into evil you're a friend of mine_  
_See my white light flashing as I split the night_  
_Cause if good's on the left,_ _  
Then I'm stickin' to the right_

Father Dean growled, the sound rumbling through his chest. He released you and stood up, lifting you, his biceps bulging, straining the sleeves of the black shirt, his hard cock jutting from his body. He kicked open the confessional door and stumbled out, pushing you in front of him until the back of your thighs hit one of the pews. The lights in the church were down and it was empty, save for the two of you. He glanced around, taking in the empty church, before turning you around and leaning you over the back of the pew.

He pushed your skirt above your waist, hooked his fingers in your panties and tore them from your body. You whimpered, pushing back against him, the need for him nearly unbearable. He shoved his knee between your legs, pushing your legs open, then he slid his hand up your back and around your back of your neck, holding you in place as he eased into you, holding himself there for the briefest second before pulling back out and roughly slamming into you.

You groaned as he filled you, the sound echoing through the huge room. He lifted you again, your back pressed to his chest, then he dragged his hand around your throat and up to your mouth, covering it.

“Shh,” he hissed, his breath hot in your ear.

Your heart thudded, your hands gripping the pew back as Father Dean started to move, every slide of his cock into you brushing across that sweet spot, making you tremble. It was only a few seconds before he was pounding into you, moving at a frenzied pace, burying himself inside of you, his hand muffling your cries of pleasure.

You grabbed his free hand, pulling it between your legs, guiding his fingers to your clit, the nub swollen and sensitive, aching for his touch. His finger barely grazed it and you were coming, every nerve ending on fire, your eyes rolling back in your head, your legs barely holding you up. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through you as you pushed back against him, wanting him deeper, wanting it harder. Father Dean seemed to hear your thoughts, doing what you wanted without words being exchanged, his stance widening as his thrusts became faster and more erratic.

He thrust several more times, bending you over the back of the pew, the wood biting into your lower stomach, the combination of pain and pleasure nearly overwhelming you. His body tensed as he had his second release, his grunts of satisfaction vibrating through you.

He stepped away almost immediately when it was over, pulling you upright, your skirt falling down to cover you. He hurried to tuck himself back into his pants and straighten his disheveled shirt, twisting his white collar back into place. He eyed you up and down, reaching out to smooth your skirt and tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. He stepped into the confessional and picked his Bible up off the floor.

You heard the rattle of wheels behind you, turning to see the janitor pushing a mop bucket across the vestibule. He lifted his hand, waving and nodding at both of you. The priest gave him a tight smile and waved.

Father Dean cleared his throat. “You should go, Y/N,” he whispered. His voice was rough and thick, wrecked.

You nodded, watching him as he calmly sidestepped you. You put your hand out, stopping him, a question of your lips.

He looked down at you, his face unreadable. You wanted to say something, anything, but you didn’t know what.

“You should come to confession tomorrow, Y/N,” he murmured, a smirk playing across his lips, the wink he gave you sending a tingle of anticipation rolling down your spine. “It’s imperative that you’re here, I may have something special planned for you.”

 _I won't take no prisoners, won't spare no lives_  
_Nobody's puttin' up a fight_  
_I got my bell, I'm gonna take you to hell_  
_I'm gonna get you, Satan get you_ _  
Hell's bells…_


End file.
